The Willow Path

A poem

Image by Kerry Walker at The Nature Hub and weaving by Rosemary Kavanagh at Wild Rose Basketry

I went to learn to weave baskets,
with women who wonder
like me.
I listened to the lady with the plait in her hair,
as I watched her fingers weave.

She gave us three loops for our structure,
she asked us to close our eyes,
to feel the willow weft with our fingers,
so we could choose the right size.

The willow was long and supple,
kept damp with an old piece of cloth,
a rainbow of earthy colours,
laid out on the ground like a swath.

And we chose with our hearts and desires,
for we ached to create once more,
to connect with the rhythm around us,
to learn the ancient lore.

But our fingers knew how to weave baskets.
For we are made by the warp and the weft.
The under hidden behind the ribs,
brought over to form the chest.

The under needs the over as contrast,
the over needs the under for strength.
Each gives birth to one another,
in a cycle that never ends.

And the more we let go of our mind-talk,
the better the weave became.
As the lore travelled through our fingers,
following the path from our hearts once again.